


Contracts and Claiming

by Icka M Chif (mischif)



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Changelings, Fae Magic, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Promises, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischif/pseuds/Icka%20M%20Chif
Summary: “There’s two ways to make a Mymble.” Little My explained, and Snufkin shot her a look of gratitude for taking over the explination. “There’s the way most folks do, with a Mom and Pop.""And the other way?""They're claimed, of course."
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 113





	Contracts and Claiming

**Author's Note:**

> TBH, I have not seen all of Moominvalley yet, having seen the beginning of season one and the end of season two, but not the middle parts. Did watch a bit of meta analysis on youtube, hit up TV Tropes, and found [posting of Moomin and Family Life](https://linaharutaka.tumblr.com/post/184741887374/highlights-from-the-moomin-coloured-comic-moomin) wherein Moominpappa and Moominmamma discover their long lost son, Moomintroll, whom they'd misplaced in a river and seemingly forgot about. They then ditch Moomintroll to go live in a pirate cave.
> 
> No, seriously.
> 
> But it sparked a couple of odd ideas and thus this fic was born where Mymble are actually Fae creating changling children.

* * *

“It’s time.” Moominmamma said, giving Snufkin a gentle but stern smile from across the Moominhouse’s kitchen table. 

Snufkin felt the coffee he’d just sipped turn bitter in his throat and burn all the way down to rest heavily in his stomach. His heart followed, lodging somewhere around his feet and stayed there. He sighed, tilting his head down to the wide brim of his hat hid his eyes.

It was probably past time, if he was to be honest. He’d stretched their time as far as he could, to the point that he was sure that even the other two could feel the pull of the contract between them, the nearly suffocating weight of the debt. 

And then the Moomins had stretched it further. Two years ago the Moomins had left the Valley, and Snufkin had been waiting ever since to see his friend again. 

The first Spring, he’d come back to find that Moominmamma and Moominpappa had returned back to the Moomin House. Snufkin had waited, but it wasn’t the same. Moominvalley wasn’t the same, with the Moomins gone, people had moved on, and not many had lingered. 

There’d always been a faint buzz of anticipation, the certainty of knowing at the end of Winter that he’d see his friend again. Even when he wasn’t ready to stop travelling, the knowledge that someone was waiting from him was both a blessing and a curse. 

Waiting, he learned, in many ways was much worse. The lingering question of ‘when’ or ‘if’ his friend would return, the cloud of anticipation that hovered like a suffocating blanket until he thought he’d go crazy from it. Life on the road was not easy, and Snufkin was all too aware of the pitfalls and dangers that came with it. Especially to soft, inexperienced travellers. 

Like Moomintroll was. 

He’d left early that Autumn, travelling farther South than he had in years, seeing new things, new experiences. It was something that should have delighted him, but instead he found himself missing his friend with an ever deeper ache, like a deep bruise in his chest that never faded. 

He’d come back to the Moominvalley a few days after the first day of Spring this year, to find the situation hadn’t changed. He’d mostly stayed anyway, circling around the valley and camping in various locations, but not straying too far. 

It had paid off. Moomintroll had returned a couple of days ago, with only a few weeks before Winter came to the Valley. 

Moomintroll had always been magnificent in Snufkin’s eyes, his magnificent darling best friend, but now he was GLORIOUS. Moomintroll had been slightly larger than Snufkin when they’d last parted, but now he was taller, bigger than even Moominpappa. He calmer now, carrying himself with a sense of maturity that reminded Snufkin of Moominmamma, although he still had his cheerful mischievous giggle and kind smile. 

Snufkin’s first impulse was to try and climb Moomintroll like a tree, to wrap his arms around shoulders, press his face against Moomintroll’s neck and just cling to him. It’d honestly scared Snufkin, he’d never felt that kind of urge towards anyone before. Not even Moomintroll. 

Thankfully, he hadn’t acted on it, greeting his friend with a smile that hid the pounding of his heart. It’d only been a few days since, and while he’d always been drawn to his friend’s presence, there was an intensity to it now that had never been there before. A nearly electrical feeling, like a zap from a hattifattener. Snufkin was struggling to maintain his usual distance. Close, but not too close. 

“Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden ended their courtship the day before yesterday.” Moominpappa said quietly. Snufkin glanced up in surprise, his heart beating hard in his chest. “They’re too different now, their experiences apart changed both of them.” 

“It was an amicable split.” Moominmamma was quick to assure, and Snufkin nodded. 

Which was good for them, but it meant that Moomintroll was free of his own promises. Which meant the contract was now back in place, unless there was someone else that Moomintroll was interested in courting. Which seemed unlikely. 

“Oh dear.” Snufkin murmured, understanding the change in the pull now, and why Moominmamma was so sure it was time. 

“You can’t refuse what is owed.” Little My said, making him startle. She popped up in the chair next to him, her voice both harshly scolding and kind as only his sister could be. “That’s not the way this works.” 

“I know.” He acknowledged. But at the same time he didn’t want to. Neither of them knew precisely what happened if they didn't come back for someone who had been claimed, only that it wasn't good. 

He’d always felt like love was a cage, something that trapped him, restricted his freedom. The realisation that his own love could be a cage for someone else made him feel ill.

Snufkin hesitated. There was one way he could see to avoid it, to keep from Moomintroll from being ripped away from everyone he loved. “Unless…” 

“Unless-?” Moominpappa urged, an odd note in his voice. 

“If I am not here.” Snufkin said quietly, looking down at the coffee cup in his paws, both sweet and bitter. “I cannot enforce the claim.”

And therefore the contract would remain as it had been, unfulfilled. 

Silence descended, wrapping around Snufkin’s throat like a noose, rendering him unable to say anything more, the aching bruise feeling deeping into a void at the thought. His eyes watered a bit, hidden under the shadow of his hat. 

It was something he’d thought of previously, but he hadn’t thought it would come to. But when it came down to it, Moomintroll’s happiness came before Snufkin’s. 

Moominmamma was the one to speak first. “That’d mean leaving the Valley.” She said, her voice soft and hushed. “Forever.” 

“You’d never see Moomintroll again.” Little My added, as if this were something that she felt that Snufkin was ignorant of. 

Snufkin nodded, unable to form words, gripping the coffee cup tightly in his paws, the heat almost burning his skin. He was well aware of the consequences of what he proposed. But if it meant Moomintroll kept his freedom, then it was worth it. 

“ **NO.** ”

They all startled, Moominpappa muttering a mild curse as he sloshed his coffee. Snufkin looked up to see Moomintroll standing in the doorway, a furious expression on his face. 

“I don’t know what’s going on.” Moomintroll said, turning his head to look at each of them in turn, firm and resolute. “But I’m _not_ okay with Snufkin leaving and never seeing him again.” 

“Wait.” Little My looked at Snufkin. “He doesn’t know about-?”

Snufkin shook his head. It had little to do with their friendship, and given Moomintroll’s long standing relationship with Snorkmaiden, he didn’t think it’d ever come into play. There was no reason to worry Moomintroll over it. 

Except now, there was. 

“I’ll make us some tea.” Moominmamma said, rising from her seat. She looked at Moomintroll and gestured to the table. “Have a seat and we’ll explain.” 

Moomintroll nodded, and much to Snufkin’s anxiety, instead of sitting in the empty seat closest to the doorway, Moomintroll walked around the table and took Moominmamma’s vacated chair. 

The vacated seat, right next to Snufkin. 

The air seemed to crackle in the space between them, although Snufkin didn’t know how much of that was reality or his own imagination. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the fast beat of his heart, wrestling with the conflicting urges of wanting to hold Moomintroll, and run out the door and never come back. 

“Go ahead and start with the story.” Moominmamma smiled at them. It was a kind expression, but it still made Snufkin incredibly nervous. 

Everyone turned towards Moominpappa, who stared back at them with a blank expression before clearing his throat and giving them an apologetic shrug. “I’m afraid I don’t know the full story.” He said, gesturing at Snufkin. “You’ll have to start us off.” 

Little My and Moomintroll turned to look at Snufkin, and Snufkin belatedly realised much to his horror that this meant that he had to _talk_. 

Talking was hard. There were so many ways for words to go wrong, especially when it came to important things. 

And this. This was important.

He swallowed, staring down at the coffee in his paws, not only trying to gather his thoughts, but get his throat to unfreeze enough to work, ignoring the fact it felt like the walls were closing in around him. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing for a moment, ignoring everyone else around him. 

“The first time I came to the Valley.” Snufkin said softly, nearly startling himself as the words came out. He supposed the words had been waiting to be spoken for a while now, and let them flow. “I found Moomintroll in the river, splashing and crying, unable to swim as the current swept him along.” 

He heard several breaths hitch, but thankfully no one said anything, giving him the space to talk. 

“Naturally, I got him out.” He remembered the feeling of holding Moomintroll for the first time, the sobbing toddler who’d clung to him in fright, even as Snufkin spoke soothingly to him, trying to hide his own panic. Once they were on dry ground and both wrapped in a blanket to warm up, Moomintroll had calmed quickly. Snufkin smiled fondly. “He was such a tiny thing then, I could carry him in only one arm.” 

Moomintroll had been the softest fluffiest cuddliest thing Snufkin had ever held. The gentle giggles as Moomintroll pressed his small snout against Snufkin’s throat had endeared him immediately. 

“Once we were dried, I went in search of parents, thinking they would be worried.” At least, that was the reaction Snufkin had anticipated. “It was several hours later, just as I was beginning to think he had been abandoned when I met Moominmamma and Moominpappa.” 

He’d been so _angry_ at them. They’d been relieved, yes, but they’d been so calm, as if their small child wandering off had been expected. As if the thought that the toddler could have been lost or killed never crossed their minds. 

It was how Snufkin had been lost, abandoned. His mother had set him down one day and forgotten him, the river carrying him away. He’d been a young Snufkin then, but he wasn’t going to let that happen to another child.

“We made a deal.” Snufkin said softly. “They could have Moomintroll back. But in exchange I would return for him one day, claim him as my own, and take him away.” 

Snufkin gripped the teacup tighter, remembering the warm weight of Moomintroll in his arms as he’d confronted them. Moomintroll hadn’t even reached for them, waving at them in a cheerful greeting, but perfectly happy staying where he was. 

Moomintroll hadn’t been fearful of his parents, which was the only reason that Snufkin had handed him back at all, despite his reservations. His many reservations. Moomintroll had made a soft whimper as Moominmamma had taken him out of Snufkin’s arms, grabbing his scarf and holding on to it until it slipped through his soft chubby fingers and it’d been all he could do not to grab Moomintroll and run away. 

“ _Claim_ me?” Moomintroll echoed, and the surprise in his voice broke Snufkin out of the calm that he’d been holding together. 

“It’s a Mymble thing.” Snufkin said, and then immediately wished he hadn’t. His paws shook a little and he set the cup on the table, still holding on to it. Was the room warm? It seemed very small and warm. 

“I thought you were a Mumrik.” Moominpappa spoke up, sounding a bit put out. 

“There’s two ways to make a Mymble.” Little My explained, and he shot her a look of gratitude for talking over the talking. “There’s the way most folks do with a Mom and Pop, which is how Snufkin was made. Half Mymble, half Mumrik.”

“Ah!” Snufkin peered out from under his hat to find Moominpappa looking like something had clicked together in his brain. “That explains it. I used to travel with the Joxter when I was younger. You remind me a lot of him.”

“Mm.” Snufkin nodded. “My father.” Not that it meant much. No more than the Mymble being his mother, she’d long forgotten him or who he was. And that was fine, he hadn’t needed anyone to care for him in ages.

Moominpappa frowned, a deep scowl forming across his features. He started wiggling his fingers as if doing arithmetic. Moominmamma came in and put a teapot on the table, taking an empty seat next to Moominpappa before taking people’s empty cups and filling them without a word. Moominpappa finally stopped and gave Snufkin a pointed look. “How old are you?”

Snufkin shrugged, fighting the urge to loosen the scarf around his throat a bit. He’d been this size for so long he couldn’t really remember. In years, probably not much older than Moomintroll. “Age is a funny thing to Mymbles. Little My is older than me.” 

The Moomins’ gaze immediately snapped towards Little My, who was barely half of Snufkin’s size. She glared back at them. “What?” 

“Wait…” Moomintroll said slowly, peering Snufmin and Little My. “Are you two related-?” 

“My half-brother.” Little My snorted, as if it were obvious. Little My paused and stared at the Moomins’ blank looks, waving a hand between herself and Snufkin. “Really? You just now noticed we’re siblings? We have the _exact same nose!_ ” 

Almost all Mymbles had the same nose. It was probably a good thing he’d never actually claimed Moomin, if nothing else than that for reason alone. Although the likelihood of that was probably low, given Snufkin’s mixed heritage. 

“... What is the other way Mymbles are made?” Moominmamma inquired, distracting Little My from what looked like was going to be a good rant. 

“They’re claimed, of course.” Little My snorted, as if it were obvious. “The Mymble takes children who no one wants, claims them as her own, and we become her kids. That’s why everyone looks almost the same.” 

The Moomins stared at her with various expressions of shock. 

“Oh, come on.” Little My rolled her eyes. “You didn’t honestly think that Mother gave birth to over 30 identical kids all at the same time?” 

“Ah. Yes. Well.” Moominmamma set her teacup down, looking awkward. “It seemed rude to inquire.” 

Little My snorted. “It’s less about age and more about **size**. The bigger you are, the more responsible you are. Most of us decide to stay little. Sure, Mother may not always remember us, but we’re always dressed and fed, and there’s lots of siblings to play with. It’s a lot better than where most of us came from.” She gestured to herself. “Although occasionally one decides to grow bigger, in which case we find somewhere else to stay.” 

Moominmamma gave her a small, pleased smile that Little My returned. 

“Is that what happened with you?” Moomintroll asked Snufkin softly. 

Snufkin hesitated. He’d never talked about his past, being more interested in the present. But he tried to be as truthful with his friend as he could be. He settled for shaking his head, ignoring the way the room seemed to roll with it. “I was not little for long.”

There was some irony to the fact that the Mymble, who adopted abandoned kids, had lost him, leaving him to raise himself. It was easier to grow than it was to go backwards, and he’d grown pretty quickly to his current size after being lost. 

He liked his size. Big enough to be on his own and walk for ages without getting tired, but small enough to take advantage of little places to sleep and not be mistaken as an adult. He didn’t need much this way, so he'd never grown further. 

Honestly, he was a little surprised that no one had ever noticed that he never grew like everyone else did.

Moomintroll nodded, his brows coming down as he thought for a moment. “Going back for a moment.” He turned towards his parents. “You were okay with his deal? You didn’t know him at the time.”

“We figured if he was willing to save and protect you, even from us, that it was worth the risk.” Moominmamma said, fiddling with her teacup with a small smile. “And his promise to come back and care for you as his own was a bit of a relief, to be honest.” 

“I don’t know where my parents are.” Moominpappa said heavily. Orphan, Snufkin remembered. “And Mamma’s are too far to reach. If something happened to us, we now had someone who would take care of you.” 

Snufkin would have too, if it came down to it. He’d watched from a distance less than a week later, making sure the little Moomintroll was fine, watching him run in and out of the drying laundry that Moominmamma had been hanging up, his laughter filling the air. 

He’d stayed in the Valley for a couple of months, checking in occasionally from where they couldn’t see him. In doing so, he’d learned that it had taken them so long to look for Moomintroll not because they were neglectful, but the valley was safe enough there was little need to keep an eye on the small toddler. He’d been satisfied enough from what he’d seen that he’d left as Winter had started, not wanting to be trapped by the snows. 

The next Spring, he’d been wandering down the path when a little white blur had impacted against his legs, nearly knocking him over. When he’d caught his balance, he’d looked down to find Moomintroll, a little bigger than he’d been in the autumn smiling up at him. 

Moominmamma and Moominpappa had greeted him with smiles as well, inviting him along on their picnic, and he’d been unable to say ‘no’ as Moomintroll had eagerly dragged him along with. The toddler had climbed into his lap and refused to let him go the entirety of the meal. 

Which had been the pattern for any meals that the Moomin family managed to pull him into. He’d gotten more hugs and cuddles that year than in his entire memory. 

Moomintroll had been devastated when he found out Snufkin was leaving in the Winter, sobbing like his heart would break, even after Snufkin promised he’d return in the Spring. 

And he’d kept his promise, Moomintroll racing to tackle him as soon as he stepped foot on the bridge in front of the Moomin House. According to Moominmamma, Moomintroll had been waiting for him since he’d woken up, watching from his upstairs window. 

And thus the cycle began, Snufkin leaving in the Autumn and returning in the Spring, continuing up until two years ago, wherein Snufkin became the one waiting. 

He wondered now if it would have been better for them all if he hadn’t waited, instead taking off and travelling the world like he’d done before he’d met Moomintroll. 

“I don’t remember this.” Moomintroll said, giving his parents a perplexed expression. “I don’t remember any of this.”

“You were very small at the time, my dear.” Moominmamma assured him. 

Little My snorted. “You can’t even remember a time that you weren’t waiting for Snufkin in the Spring, can you?” She asked, not entirely unkindly. 

Moomintroll said nothing, but hummed thoughtfully. Two years ago, he would have argued that with Little My. Now he considered her words. 

“So, what now?” Moomintroll finally asked. “I’m too big to need someone to raise me.”

“That’s the part where you walked in the room to begin with.” Moominpappa said heavily. 

“There’s more than one way to claim someone.” Little My smiled as if her mouth was full of sharp pointy teeth and Snufkin flinched. “And since he isn’t claiming you as a child, the only thing left is to claim you as an _adult_.” 

It felt so dirty, so twisted when she said it like that. He knew what she was implying, but he wasn't big enough for that sort of fuss and bother, nor had he ever wished to. Snufkin felt ill, his stomach twisting as the room seemed to roll around him. He felt uncomfortably warm, realising that his palms were covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

“While you were and Snorkmaiden were courting, your promises to each other overroad our agreement with Snufkin.” Moominmamma explained with a small shrug. “But since that’s been broken off…” 

The debt was owed, the agreement to be fulfilled. To claim Moomintroll as his own and take him away. The promises were binding, and he wasn't entirely sure what the punishment was for failing to uphold such a contract, but they probably weren't good. 

“I’m promised to marry Snufkin-?” Moomintroll’s voice was very soft, as thin and tremulous as spider silk. 

He’d never felt so physically close to someone, and yet so far away. He felt a roaring in his ears. It was as if there was a great chasm between them. 

He wished it would swallow him whole. 

“-kin? Snufkin!” He shook his head, realising that someone was calling his name. He looked up, the motion feeling as if it was taking all of his energy to do, meeting Moomintrolls’s sea-blue eyes. 

He expected to see revulsion, but instead, Moomintroll looked concerned. “Go outside and breathe, okay?” Moomintroll informed him. 

Snufkin wanted to protest, but the thought of fleeing, getting out of this tiny suffocating room consumed him. 

“Go.” Moomintroll urged, and Snufkin went. The dash outside was a blur, him hitting the door with enough force to make a loud banging noise that seemed inconsequential. The cool air touched his face, chilling the sweat that covered his skin and he breathed in deep gulps of cold air, the fuzziness slowly leaving his brain. 

Motion at the corner of his eye made him turn, and he found Moomintroll standing at the open doorway, one paw on the doorknob. Snufkin’s breath caught, feeling as if the slightest word, the slightest touch would send him falling to pieces. 

Instead, Moomintroll gave him a small smile that seemed almost understanding. Moomintroll nodded his head once, then quietly shut the door, leaving Snufkin alone on the front porch. 

Snufkin swallowed, feeling shaky. 

If he were a more responsible person, he’d go back in the house and continue their discussion and what they could do to free Moomintroll from Snufkin’s promise. But he couldn’t seem to get his feet to work, to step closer to the door. 

He turned his head in the opposite direction, towards the forest, where his tent was. He could pack up and leave. Do what he’d talked about, leave and never come back, not taking Moomintroll away from his home and everyone he loved.

He took a few stumbling steps to the end of the porch, feeling the sunlight on his face like a siren’s song as he put his foot on the first step. 

And then he sat down, like a toy marionette with their strings abruptly cut. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to the sun and just breathed. This was far enough and near enough for the moment. 

Snufkin wished he hadn’t given up his pipe. This would have been the perfect time to smoke, letting the smoke calm him down. But the leaves cost money or had to be gifted, and his pipe had broken during a tumble down a hill a few years ago, so he’d stopped. It’d been a bit of an eye opener how much he’d been using it when the withdrawal effects hit. 

Thankfully he’d done that over a winter, when his being cranky and snappish wouldn’t affect his friends. It had also stopped a very young Moomintroll from trying to attempt a pipe as well, just so he could follow Snufkin’s example. 

He ran a paw down his face. He was not an example for anyone to follow. He never lied about himself, not even to himself. He was a vagabond, he had no home and no real family, and he liked it that way. 

He had no money either. He was occasionally a criminal, tearing down park signs and burning them, and a few times a petty thief to get something to eat when he was out of other options. 

Outside of the gentleness of Moominvalley, he was someone people avoided. And he generally welcomed it. 

And yet he always came back. There was a wide vast world out there that he’d barely seen any of, and yet he returned to Moominvalley for the majority of the year. Because of a promise. A lot of promises now, between himself and Moomintroll. 

He’d allowed himself to become attached. The few times he’d met with his father, the Joxter had warned him against it, that attachments would only hurt. Which was true, but it also wasn’t.

The thought of losing Moomintroll hurt, a lot. He’d known Moomintroll for most of his life now. First as a child, then as a friend, then a dear friend. And now… 

He didn’t know. And if the question came down to giving up Moomintroll or his freedom to travel, he didn’t know either. The thought of staying in one place and never leaving again made him feel ill. He couldn’t do that, he’d fade away. 

But he didn’t think he could give up Moomintroll either, it’d be like missing a part of himself. 

The door opened and he opened his eyes, not needing to look to hear Moomintroll’s familiar footsteps. Moomintroll didn’t say anything, sitting down on the top step next to him, tilting his face up towards the sunshine as well. Heart pounding, Snufkin watched him out of the corner of his eye, drinking in the sight of his best friend, familiar and yet not. 

“When I was travelling, I stopped in a large city that was having a major celebration.” Moomintroll said quietly, his voice gentle and soft with memory. “The streets were completely packed, I couldn’t move without bumping into someone, people offering drink, food, or dancing. It was fun and exciting.”

Snufkin smiled quietly. He’d witness many similar celebrations, often being able to walk away with a full belly and a week or more worth of food in his pack. He’d lost part of his pack during one of those celebrations as well, which had been a harsh but effective lesson. 

“At least at first.” Moomintroll said, his voice flat and Snufkin blinked at the change. “Then suddenly it wasn’t fun at all. Partly because of the crowd, but sometimes people would reach out and pet me without asking because I was ‘exotic’. And I realised that I was surrounded by strangers. I was months away from anyone I knew, there were all these people and suddenly it was too much, like everything was closing in on me and I was drowning on dry land.”

That was a situation that Snufkin was all too familiar with. “What did you do?” 

“I left.” Moomintroll shrugged one round shoulder. “I stumbled through the crowds until I found my inn, packed up my bag and left. The innkeeper was kind enough to refund me since I hadn’t spent the night, and there were more people looking for a bed. I almost didn’t take the coin in my haste to leave. It wasn’t until the city was hours behind me before I felt like I could breathe again.” 

Snufkin nodded, all too aware of the feeling. Sometimes it took him days before the buzzing left his skin and he felt comfortable seeing another person again. 

“I thought of you.” Moomintroll said, and Snufkin startled, his heart beating fast in his chest. Moomintroll laughed, rubbing an ear, looking self-conscious. “Well, I mean, I thought of you a LOT, but right then, I suddenly realised why you don’t like parties or crowds. And why you need time to yourself. It took me a day before I could greet people with words without wanting to jump out of my skin. I mean, I always _knew_ you needed time to yourself, but this was the first time I actually _understood_ it, if that makes sense-?”

Moomintroll trailed off, looking at Snufkin hopefully. 

“It _is_ different. Knowing something because you are told, and knowing something because you have experienced it.” Snufkin said slowly, finding words still difficult. But that also explained why Moomintroll had told Snufkin to go, where previously he would have begged Snufkin to stay, to spend a little bit more time together. 

Moomintroll nodded, giving Snufkin a small smile that was terribly fond. 

“I kept looking for you when I travelled.” Moomintroll confessed, glancing away, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Wondering if I was walking someplace you’d been. Wanting to know what you would think of various places if you were there. I missed you.”

Snufkin felt his own face heat up and he ducked his head, hiding his own possibly blushing cheeks under the rim of his hat. “I missed you too.” He said softly. He’d missed Moomintroll _so much_. 

More than he thought he would. His fingers curled into fists, trapping and bunching up the fabric of his coat in his grip.

“That’s actually why I came back.” Moomintroll said, turning his gaze away. “I wanted to find you. Maybe see about travelling together? At least for a little while, if that’s all you can handle.” 

Snufkin’s breath caught in his throat. “Wha-?”

“I’m not done travelling yet.” Moomintroll wrapped an arm around himself. “I love my parents and Moominvalley, but… This isn’t my home anymore. It doesn’t feel right, being here. I’ll be gone before the Winter snows, and I don’t know when I’ll be back to visit.” 

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” Snufkin shook his head. Moominvalley, his parents, this house. This was Moomintroll’s _home_ , where he always was. 

...Or so Snufkin always thought. 

“It’s what you do when you grow big.” Moomintroll looked almost amused at Snufkin’s confusion, as if it were something obvious that Snufkin should have known. “You leave your parent’s home and go make your own. It’s what Mamma and Pappa did before settling here. It’s like an itch, or a pull. I don’t know how to describe it. But I need to go out, find a place of my own, my own valley maybe, and build a house there.” 

“And I hoped...” Moomintroll hesitated a second, and Snufkin found himself on the edge of the seat. “We could do it together-?”

Snufkin looked over his gentle friend, who had grown into himself. And unlike previous times when Moomintroll had asked to come with, he could actually see them travelling together, exploring the world.

“I have experience travelling now, I can take care of myself if we want to split up for a little while and see different things.” Moomin continued, having obviously put some thought into it. “And sometimes I’ll want to stay in an inn with an actual bed with walls instead of under the sky. And when I find where to settle, you can go and come back in the Spring?”

Just like they’d always done. 

Snufkin stared up in awe at Moomintroll, completely overcome with emotion. 

“... Should you find any kids that need claiming, you could always bring them home to me-?” Moomintroll said quietly, fingers twitching in nervousness. “I think I’d be a good Pappa.” 

Snufkin nodded. Moomintroll would be an amazing parent, unlike Snufkin, who felt like he’d be horrible at it. He didn’t exactly have any experience with parents, except for Moominmamma and Moominpappa, and even then only occasionally. 

“And I know Mumrik need to travel, but Little My makes it sound like Mymbles need a home.” Moomintroll said softly. “I’d like to be your home, if you’d let me?” 

Moomintroll held a paw out to Snufkin, his sparkling blue eyes earnest and kind, as if he wasn’t offering Snufkin the world on a platter. Freedom. Travel. And Moomintroll. All together, without the need to choose one or the other. 

“Would you be happy? Living like that?” Snufkin hesitantly asked. With Snufkin, who wouldn’t be there all the time. It wasn’t traditional, or what life would be like with someone like Snorkmadien. And who knew how long they’d be nomadic before finding a place to stop. 

“Incredibly.” Moomintroll said so sincerely that it almost made Snufkin want to cry. 

“I think you are foolish for choosing this Snufkin.” He said honestly, jerkily unclenching his fist from his coat and placing it in Moomintroll’s open paw. The contact was almost an electrical feeling, like the air before a lightning strike. “But I would be a more foolish Snufkin to say no.” 

Not when it would make them both happy. 

“Yes?” Moomintroll breathed. 

Snufkin nodded. “Yes.” 

He could feel the shift in the magic, the promise and contract being fulfilled, the feeling of lightness. He was claiming Moomintroll, or more appropriately, Moomintroll was claiming him, and they were leaving, together. 

In all his ponderings of how this would play out, he’d never considered Moomintroll choosing him and voluntarily leaving. Or even wanting to travel with Snufkin, especially after hearing about their promise. 

He’d thought it meant an end, not a new beginning. 

“Oh good.” Moomintroll gasped, his fingers curling around Snufkin’s own. “I was kind of nervous there.” 

Snufkin choked on a laugh, wondering on what planet he’d ever turn Moomintroll away. 

“I’d really like to hug you now.” Moomintroll confessed. “Can I?”

“ _Please_.” Snufkin barely kept from pleading, launching himself towards Moomintroll, _his_ Moomintroll, who laughed as he caught Snufkin. Moomintroll tucked his head over Snufkin’s shoulder, cradling him tightly, like he was afraid that Snufkin would disappear from his arms if he didn’t. 

Snufkin hugged back just as tightly. He couldn’t completely wrap his arms around Moomintroll, and he was sharp and angular where Moomintroll was soft and round, but it didn’t feel awkward at all. He felt small, like the feelings inside of him were too much for his current size, and for the first time in years, he felt the urge to grow bigger in order to contain it all. 

Moomintroll hummed, his lips moving against Snufkin’s neck, words that Snufkin couldn’t hear. Words that he felt, but couldn’t say quite yet. He would. 

He promised. 

-Fin-


End file.
